The Winchester Odyssey
by Vivid Escapist
Summary: Dean has never had a problem with road trips. They are a way of life for a hunter. Dean has also never been stuck in a car with his brother, two angels and a crabby demon all at the same time.


**A/N:** In a perfect world, Dean wouldn't be a demon and Gadreel would still be alive and kicking. So for the sake of this story let's go with that.

* * *

The case couldn't have come at a better time. Tensions were still high whenever Dean and Gadreel were in the same room, Cas was getting cabin fever (despite refusing to leave Dean's side) and Crowley was still popping in and out randomly, for reasons undetermined. Sam didn't know why Gadreel was with them either, instead of helping clean up heaven. But with Dean not yet one hundred percent after Metatron's attack, Sam wasn't going to complain about having two fully-equipped angels around. Well, mostly-equipped in Cas' case; they hadn't talked about the issue of his grace.

The Men of Letters bunker had plenty of empty bedrooms but Gadreel was staying primarily in the library, reading. Every time Sam walked past the angel had a stack of books beside him as tall as the chairs. (Good literature choices, too.) Sam was still working on forgiving _Dean_ for manipulating him into accepting Gadreel's possession. While Metatron had been hell-bent on fucking shit up, reconciling with Gadreel himself was pretty low on Sam's to-do list. Now that events were at a temporary calm, Sam wasn't sure how to act around him. Therefore, when Sam walked into the library with his laptop in one hand and a coffee mug in the other, and Gadreel reading Homer's Odyssey in the middle of one of the tables, he was severely conflicted about where to sit. (He was also aware how petty a dilemma that was.) If he sat at the opposite table it would obvious he was avoiding Gadreel. If he sat beside him, he might be crossing a boundary neither of them wanted to deal with yet.

Standing awkwardly as he contemplated all this, Sam had never felt more like a teenage girl. Maybe he was overthinking this…

"Hello, Sam." Well. That narrowed his choices.

"Um…hey." Sam slid into the chair across from Gadreel and opened his computer. He went straight to CNN and started scoping out stories that might have any supernatural undertone. When all the major news outlets seemed to be clear—besides recaps of Metaron's meddling—he started checking local.

"I can't figure out these Greeks' descriptions of gods. There are many of them, and none in any way resemble my father." Sam looked over his screen to see Gadreel squinting at the book. He smiled. "God would never drown an entire sea fleet for one man's indiscretions. It doesn't make any sense."

"It's mythology, dude," Sam said. Gadreel stared blankly. "Infamous Greek empire, polytheism, Zeus and Ares and stuff…" Still nothing. "I guess you missed a lot while you were in heaven's jail, huh?" Sam winced, immediately regretting mentioning Gadreel's imprisonment, but the angel seemed unfazed.

"Yes," he said remorsefully. "The time was not opportune before, but I thought books would be a good place to begin catching up." Gadreel glanced at the shelves around them. "Metatron always spoke very highly of human literature. Seems to be the one manner in which he was sincere." Gadreel looked uneasily at him. Sam wandered if that was the start of an attempt at apology.

Sam pushed his laptop aside. "You're not the only one Metatron fooled. I mean, he had the majority of angel kind under his belt until you and Cas broadcasted his evil monologue on the radio." He paused. "And no one in this bunker has a monopoly on doing stupid crap." If anyone could empathize with doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, it was Sam.

A Google alert popped up on Sam's computer screen. _'Burlington Monster Myth Come to Life!'_

Gadreel cleared his throat. "Sam, I…"

"Um, one sec," Sam replied, distracted. He read the article over twice, then clicked through to a police report. Three people vanished from the shores of a lake in two weeks, leaving behind no visible trace. No leads from the police or Coast Guard. When Sam finished reading the information, he turned his attention back to Gadreel, who had his book open again. "Check this out. I think I found us a case."

* * *

When Cas had returned to the bunker after committing Metatron to his cell, he'd fully expected to find Sam mourning Dean's death. Final death. No more deals or resurrections. However, in typical Winchester fashion, Dean had postponed the afterlife one more time. Cas couldn't have been more grateful. Though his brothers and sisters could never understand, Dean meant more to Castiel than anything he'd encountered in all his millennia of existence. A world without Dean Winchester would be incomplete.

Cas had used what he could of his wavering grace to heal Dean's wounds beyond fatal, but only when Gadreel returned later and finished the job could Cas breathe easy. Every day his grace felt less certain, and Cas despised it. At least when he had been human he knew where he stood at the end of the day. This in-between state was reminiscent of the apocalypse when his powers were cut off from heaven.

But the matter of most importance was Dean's well-being. If Cas needed Gadreel's assistance to restore that, he would cope. Locating Castiel's own grace could be dealt with at a later time.

A week after Dean was healed, Cas found himself still unwilling to vacate the bunker. He had responsibilities up in heaven, of course. There were things he could be doing. But that would involve leaving the Winchesters for an unpredictable amount of time once again while affairs got sorted upstairs. He'd put Hannah in charge for now, wanting to be needed as little as possible.

Gadreel had elected to stick around as well. Cas suspected that had more to with his discontent around the other angels, rather than his adoration of the Winchesters. Not that Gadreel was opposed, either. Some things took time.

Cas had been sitting alone in his thoughts for a while when Dean walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Cas." Dean was holding a plastic bag under his arm. Cas recognized the logo from the convenient store nearby that Sam and Dean often used to restock the bunker's supplies. "I've been thinking; any food you try anymore tastes like 'molecules,' right?"

"Unfortunately so." With no other task at hand, Dean had made it his personal mission to find a food Cas could enjoy in his angelic state. Thus far, no luck. It was a kind idea, but honestly, Cas was eager for some mild hunt just to avoid another chemical taste test.

"Burgers, fries, hot dogs, macaroni, Doritos, ice cream…no dice. So I was thinking—pie."

"Um, Dean, I'm not sure that will change anything…"

"Come on, man. It's _pie._ I got like, six flavors." He stacked the plastic containers on the table, each with his favored pastry inside and labelled with a different name: apple, cherry, pumpkin, blueberry. Cas stared at the boxes uncertainly.

"I suppose we could try—"

"Dean, Cas, I found something." Sam rushed into the kitchen with his laptop open, Gadreel trailing behind.

"Something, like…?" Dean asked.

"A case. You know, those things we do when the world's not ending?"

"Rings a bell."

"Great." Sam put his computer next to the unloaded pies. "Did a bakery explode in here?"

"Dean is still trying to find a food I can taste properly." Cas met Sam's eyes, pleading something along the lines of 'please don't let your brother force feed me one more bite.' Or at least that's what he hoped the message expressed.

"I don't understand. Why would we need to eat?" Gadreel asked, puzzled. Dean opened his mouth to reply then decided against it.

"It doesn't matter," Cas dismissed. "Sam, what did you find?" Sam pointed to a police report on the computer screen.

"Several people have mysteriously gone missing from a lake in Vermont recently. No suspects, no evidence of kidnapping, no reason for the victims to up and leave on their own. The locals are blaming it on the resident sea monster."

"Sea monster," Dean stated skeptically.

"Yeah, the area's own Loch Ness." Sam pulled up a different website, this one more conspiracy-looking than factual. "They call it 'Champ.'"

"Oh, well that's a _great_ menacing monster name. They think a green reptile named after a sports store is abducting people?"

Sam shrugged. "We've had weirder."

"Yeah." Dean mumbled something about teddy bears under his breath.

"Is there any validity to the legend?" Cas asked.

"Well, not a lot. It has all the characteristics of a typical myth, and there's no mention of the monster committing violence before. But there might be a legitimate threat. I figured it's worth checking out."

"Are we suspecting it is demons?" Gadreel questioned. Cas had nearly forgotten he was there.

"Probably not," Sam said. "Doesn't fit the usual signs. But it could be a number of other things. And if it _is_ supernatural…" Sam gave Dean a pointed look. Cas was certain that the younger Winchester was the only person who could sway Dean by simply looking at him.

"Fine," he relented. "I'll get the keys. But if this turns out to be some over-the-top hoax," Dean tossed the empty pie bag at Sam, "I'm blaming you."

* * *

Packing up the Impala turned out to be more complicated than most other Winchester road trips. Dean had spent much of his recent downtime going over the Men of Letters armory with a fine-toothed comb. A few weapons he'd deemed virtually useless. Several others now had permanent residency in the trunk of the car. Sam added his and Dean's clothes bags, and one for Castiel as well. (What Cas could possibly have _in_ there, Dean didn't know.) The space was more crammed than ever.

Sam kept his laptop beside him in the front seat but all around the angels in the back there were snacks Dean had insisted on bringing, announcing, "We are stopping as little as possible until we get there. No grocery stores, fast food, or unnecessary potty breaks." There also were crosswords to keep Cas occupied (apparently he was 'very pop-culture savvy' now) and Gadreel's books. Dean had no clue how the guy expected to finish so many in a twenty-five-hour drive, but he withheld comment. The last addition appeared out of the blue fifteen minutes into their trip.

"Hello, boys."

"_Jesus!_" Dean swerved into the opposite lane, then regained control of the wheel. He glared into the rearview mirror.

"Don't look so pleased to see me."

"You're even worse with your poofing than Cas." The angel in question gave Dean a wounded expression, to which Dean rolled his eyes. "But he's always welcome. What are you doing here, Crowley?"

"Excuse me, you _know_ this demon?" Gadreel was scooted as far as possible to the door, definitely not happy to have Crowley between himself and Cas. The backseat wasn't nearly large enough for three grown men to share. Had the situation been different, Dean probably would have laughed at how absurd they looked.

"Unfortunately," Sam said. "He's sort of helpful sometimes." Crowley scoffed.

"'Sometimes?' Moose, without me you wouldn't have killed Abaddon, or even had a chance at combatting your angel problem."

"Yeah, the Mark didn't stop Metatron from almost killing Dean," Sam snapped. Crowley made a noncommittal gesture with his hands. "One out of two isn't bad. And you're alright now, Squirrel." Now Sam scoffed. He resigned to staring silently out the window.

"Brother, are these animal titles supposed to be nicknames?" Gadreel whispered across the seat to Cas.

"I think it's his way of showing affection." Both of their whispering skills left something to be desired. Crowley leaned back against the seat and snickered. Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The air inside the Impala was getting too stuffy for his liking. He considered turning on the AC, but the last time he had it made a weird sputtering sound the whole time. He needed to take a look at that.

Crowley poked Gadreel's shoulder. "I'll call this one 'Owl.'" The angel appeared unsure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

"Fantastic," Dean muttered. "Got the whole family zoo. Now, Crowley, is there a reason you're here?"

"Can't a fellow just say hello to his friends without an ulterior motive?"

"Friends is pushing it, considering Dean and I were prepared to kill you a month ago." Sam said.

"Yes, but as you mentioned, I've been _so_ helpful since then. So where are you four headed off to in such a rush?" His question met silence from both Winchesters. Dean switched the radio on and dedicated his excess attention to flipping through the stations. Cas took that as his cue.

"There's a case in Vermont that requires our consideration. Dean is determined to get there as soon as possible."

"Road trip, getting back in the hunting game. Sounds fascinating. What's the creature?"

"Okay, Crowley, cut the crap." Dean fixed the demon's reflection with a stare that could have been classified as menacing if it weren't directed at a mirror. "We both know you didn't come around to gossip. What do you want?"

Crowley huffed, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. After a few moments he said, "When you killed Abaddon, all of her remaining loyalists came flocking back to me. I had a few killed for show, but no one's going to be stepping out of line again for a long time. Every demon in hell wants to kiss my arse and during the bitch's short-lived reign enough souls were collected to fill quotas for a decade. Things have been…peaceful, so to speak. Quiet. For hell."

"Are you telling me you're _bored?_" Dean asked.

"…Perhaps. I thought I might tag along on what you're doing for a while. Get a change of scenery."

Sam turned completely around in his seat. "You're joking."

"I wish," Crowley grumbled. "But you two daft idiot actually do some interesting work. Occasionally."

"There's no way in hell you are hunting with us."

"Interesting choice of words there, Squirrel."

"If you think that's interesting you're gonna _love_—"

"An extra pair of hands could be useful, could it not?" Gadreel interrupted calmly. All eyes turned to him. "Travelling with a demon certainly wouldn't be my first choice. But we don't know what we will be dealing with yet. And if we do encounter other demons along the way, he could deter them from us." Crowley shrugged in agreement.

"Could be arranged." Crowley nudged the angel on the other side of him. "What do _you_ say, Cassie boy?"

"I'm fine if Dean is comfortable with it."

"Wow, big surprise there."

"Oh, shut up, Crowley." Dean thought for a minute. "Sam?"

"Fine. But just for the time being. This isn't a permanent arrangement. After that, if you're bored, try an arcade."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "No thanks. Those disgusting pissholes are always full of children."

"Speaking of kids," Dean started, "seen yours lately?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Right." While Dean and Crowley bickered on about the subject, Castiel sorted through the magazines he'd put on the floor. The periodical section had originally attracted him in stores so he could find out what was happening in the news while he was human. Then he discovered crosswords. At first he hadn't been able to finish a single one, having no recollection of characters like "Bugs Bunny" or "Steve Jobs." Metatron's mind jolt had cleared some things up. Cas picked up one of the puzzles he hadn't looked at yet.

To _Fantasy series by George R.R. Martin_ he quickly filled in _Game of Thrones._ (Dean had eagerly shown Cas the DVDs a few days previous.) The next clue wasn't familiar.

"Gadreel, do you know of _A series of paranormal books, published from 2005 to 2010_?"

"I don't believe so." Cas passed the magazine across Crowley for Gadreel to see. After a moment of careful studying, he asked, "Could it have something to do with the Wookiee?"

"Um…no." Cas took the crossword back. "That's from a collection of movies called Star Wars. This is focusing on books."

"Well, I'm new to those as well." Gadreel glanced at the titles he'd brought. "Sherlock Holmes?"

"There's no 't' in that. And Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wasn't alive in 2005."

"The Great Gatsby then."

"Too many t's. And still too early." Castiel paused. "That looks like the solution to nine across though. _1920s American novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald?_" Gadreel verified the author written on the book.

"That's it." Cas wrote the answer in pen.

"Since when do angels play with word searches?" Crowley interrupted. He leaned over Cas to peer at the page.

"It's a crossword," Castiel said seriously. "Word searches are in the front."

"Oh, of course."

"They're a good exercise in knowledge of popular media."

"Speaking of, Cas," Sam piped in. "How did you suddenly become so," he put up air quotes, "'pop-culture savvy?' You made a joke about Iron Man the other day. _I_ haven't seen that movie."

"Dude, you're kidding!" Dean said, scandalized. "How are you even my brother?"

"It's not like our job gives us much time for movie dates. I have no idea how you manage to watch so many. And anime."

Dean made a restrained choking sound. "Shut up, Sammy."

"Well, you _do._"

"I will throw you out of this car." Gadreel watched the exchange with leveled interest. Cas, with affection. It had become a rare anomaly when the brothers were on the same page—not fighting, lying or otherwise distrustful of one another. The animosity always pained Castiel, who valued the brothers' bond as much as he did his own relationship with each Winchester. Dean's trickery and then the Mark, among other problems, had put a damper on everything. But now, wounds were healing. It was good to see Sam and Dean friendly again.

"unhealthy obsession with—"

"Sam, one more word and you'll wake up tomorrow bald." Sam stopped his sentence short. Cas supposed he cherished his plentiful locks more than teasing his brother. (They _were_ fairly impressive.)

"Anyway. Cas?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"Your savviness."

"In the time I was gone, before you and Metatron traded me for Gadreel," Cas noticed the other angel shift uncomfortably, "he had me in some kind of dream reality. Or, fiction world, I suppose would be more accurate. Designed by him. I saw Gabriel there."

"Hold up, Gabriel is alive?" Dean hissed. Castiel considered the question. Yes, Metatron had conceded that he'd constructed the entire reality himself. But Gabriel had felt so authentic. _Real._ Angel tablet or not, the essence of an archangel wasn't easy to fabricate.

"I'm not certain. It's possible."

"It would not be the first time Gabriel has faked his death," Gadreel agreed. He looked pensive.

"Exactly. But that's for another time. Afterwards, Metatron was speaking to me and became annoyed with my not understanding his media references. So he gave me a 'red con' with the information."

"What, like a memory chip?" Sam asked.

"I…guess that is comparable."

"Shit, that's actually kind of convenient." Dean looked like an imaginary light bulb had just illuminated over his head. "Hey, Cas, could you do that to people? Could you make me know French?"

"Why do you want to know French, Dean?"

Dean winked at his brother. "Guess."

"Okay, ew, gross. I didn't need that image."

"You asked."

"To answer your question," Cas broke in, "yes. But I would have to have the knowledge myself first."

"You're telling me you can't speak every language in existence?" Dean asked. "Doesn't your mojo cover that?"

Cas muttered something in Enochian.

"'Only what has been necessary,"' Gadreel translated.

"Show off. What _can_ you speak then?"

"Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, Latin, Italian, Arabic—"

"Okay, never mind."

"If you want to know French," Crowley started. Cas noticed he suddenly had a book in his hands. The outside had a plenitude of demonic symbols and sigils. He did not want to know what the he was reading about. "Then you should've just asked me. Simple language, French. Ghastly country."

Sam watched Dean screw his face up like he'd just drunk sour milk. "I don't need you messing around in my head, Crowley. You've been in Sam's enough for the both of us."

"Oh, but you'd let angel boy over here inside? An angel was the reason I needed to enter Sam in the first place." Gadreel looked awkwardly at the floor.

"Hey, watch it," Dean spat.

"Enter? Really? You had to use that word choice?" Sam asked. He could feel his skin crawling just thinking about it. Memories of Ruby came to surface and he decided to put his headphones in, effectively exiting the conversation.

"I'm just stating the facts," Crowley said smugly.

"The fact is you're a demon. Stay out of my fucking head, thanks." Dean pressed the buttons on the stereo until he found a station playing AC/DC. "Highway to Hell." "Oh, perfect," Dean mumbled.

"Rude. My being a demon never seems to bother you when you need something from me." Crowley was starting to sound pissed off.

"Oh, can it." Dean turned off the radio. "Cas, can you hand me some chips? The bag's in front of you, I think." Castiel leaned forward and found a black backpack under the driver's seat. He picked it up, but before he could unzip the bag, Crowley snapped his fingers. Smoke started coming off the top.

"Uh, Dean?" Then a flame materialized. "Dean!"

"Crowley, what the hell!" Dean wondered if he could reach to stab Crowley while driving. The Impala was filling up with smoke.

Noticing the commotion, Sam ripped his earbuds out. "Put the damn flame out, Crowley!"

"But I'm a demon; you don't need any help from me."

"You made the fire!" Sam coughed and rolled his window down.

"Brother, perhaps you could beat it out with this." Gadreel offered up a hardcover book. Cas was too busy waving his hand over the pack, and trying to keep the flame away from the upholstery.

Dean quickly checked his side mirror to make sure no car was following closely behind. "Cas, just toss it out the window!" Cas' eyes darted around the car, searching for a better solution, but the space was increasing in temperature and flames were making their way close to his hands. He fiddled with the window mechanism until it was half open. "Throw it!" The angel complied.

The car was silent for several minutes. Crowley was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed and a smug smile on his face. Dean squinted at the road ahead of him. Sam swore if anyone uttered a word, Dean would slam on the breaks and snap them in half. Eventually, Sam took a chance to shuffle through the car's tapes and put one in. The sun was starting to set behind them. Counting backwards, Sam estimated they'd only been on the road for about forty-five minutes. They weren't even out of Kansas.

"That was our only bag of food," Dean sighed.


End file.
